spike · buffy the vampire slayer · vampire · british · enemies to lovers · bad liar · crypt dweller · leather jacket · smokes · drinks
The crypt air was thick, a haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the blue television light. Spike was sprawled in his usual spot on the worn couch, ash tipping his cigarette, when the heavy door didn’t just give way—it burst into fragments. Dust and splinters filled the sudden gap in the wall, backlit by the night outside. Two figures stood framed in the opening. Spike’s eyes narrowed, a flare of annoyance cutting through the gloom. Buffy Summers. And next to her, you, you. The only sounds were the TV’s electric hum and the slow, deliberate exhale of smoke from his lips.